All The Courage You Have Left
by thissuperficialhypocrisy
Summary: A collection of drabbles on Blaine Anderson's life before, during and after a certain endearing spy appeared at Dalton, beginning at his downfall at his old school and ending way after his rise in his new one. Based on a fanmix I created.
1. Introduction

**Okay, so this began with a Blaine fanmix I created, and I decided to write a drabble for each song - there's thirteen in total - and I've decided instead of posting each one under one one-shot I'll be posting them as seperate drabbles. They won't be too long, I hope they'll all be around this length, which is 290 words (I bet they'll end up being like two thousand words each, haha), and when it's finished I'll give you guys the tracklist and upload them all under a fanmix (with a cover! le gasp!). If you have any ConCrit, then I'm open to that.**

**I'm just going to point out now - this is Blaine's POV the entire way, and the majority of it's going to be about his past. Don't worry, Kurt'll get involved soon enough! I'm hoping to get most of it (if not all) uploaded tonight. So... Enjoy!**

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><p><strong> introduction<strong>

Growing up as Blaine Anderson wasn't an easy thing – there were trials he had to pass, obstacles to stumble over and fronts he had to put on, but in the end it worked. No one would ask questions, people would talk to him and smile at him and say _you're the bestest friend I've__** ever**__ had_… everything he did was _good_, and if it was good enough for them then it was perfect for him, too.

And then High School turned his world upside down.

It started off fine – kids would come up to him, laughing and grinning and lightly punching his arm as if to say _you're cool, Anderson_ and he was so sure that he was passing by without anyone noticing that he was – _might have_ – been different from them in the way that made his father frown and his mother purse her lips. It was a thought that constantly tickled the back of his mind, because while all the boys were talking about how hot that girl looked in that simple pale red dress that accentuated all of her curves, he was contemplating going up to her and saying that it was the wrong shade of red (it should be a deep scarlet, or a brighter shade of crimson_ at least_), and when girls came up to him and subtly hunted that he should really go see a movie with them on Friday or take them out to dinner after their study date on Wednesday he politely told them "no, thank you" and went on his merry way.

Of course, after he turned down the fifth girl that week, the seed of doubt had been planted in many a boy's mind and they began to _wonder_…


	2. i

**i.**

It was two months into his freshman year when Blaine took notice of how much just… changed. A few of the guys who hung out with him before weren't around as often, smiles stretched too wide and nervous as if they've been caught doing something they shouldn't (he knows that look _far_ too well), the girls who asked him out on dates slowly lessened until no more approached him, the ones who did previously looking at him through slitted lids and shivers of disgust running down their spine. Most people did that, if he thought about it – looking at him like he was nothing and treating him like he was just a spot of mud on their shoes.

(The only way to cleanse them is to wipe them against a rug or to drench them in water until they shined brighter than they did before, of course, and the whispers in the hallway felt like an ice-cold something slithering down his skin in rivulets and pushing him away from his peers as a result.)

He tried to cling on to those who weren't afraid to be seen with him, but the glares and snarls from those around them managed to isolate Blaine, and he finally heard the rumours circulating around as he was pushed off the metaphorical shoe, and as it was left to metaphorically dry (and he was reluctantly left to realise that everything they were saying about him might be true.)

He had never felt more alone.


	3. ii

**OC time! Also, it's going to be quite angsty for a while. Apologies for that.**

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><p><strong>ii.<strong>

Half way through said freshman year, when everyone had succeeded in getting their message of '_stay the hell away from that kid'_ across to anyone who could hear them, there was a mid-term transfer – Emma Johnston, who recently moved into the town as her father recently acquired a job that involved her moving towns, didn't get the message (or the glares, or the snarls, or anything, really) and asked the kid with the kind hazel eyes and out-of-control raven hued mini-fro if he would help her out.

He offered her one of his (underused) crooked smiles and said yes.

And everything was okay again for Blaine – the seeds that had been planted, and were beginning to become fully fledged 'plants', had withered and died, and he now had a friend (one with expressive brown eyes, a button nose and plump dusty pink lips, he noted) who didn't care what the others were saying and just wanted to get to know him as a person.

(He was aware that he had unknowingly given her the metaphorical matchbox that could set everything he's worked hard to cover on fire, but he was hoping that they trusted each other enough that nothing needed to be said.)

They hung out and worked on projects together, and the end of the year task was no different, so when they managed to put the finishing touches to it they collapsed onto the sofa in his living room with a satisfied sigh and grinned at each other.

"I think we did well." He stated, grin becoming wide and natural as hers widened in response.

"I think we did _fantastic_." She replied, a hand resting on his knee and grin forming into a smile that made her lips part slightly.

And then her hand was going higher, higher, higher and those plump lips were getting closer, closer closer and all the smell of her favourite perfume was choking, choking, choking…

He yelped and jumped off the sofa, hands immediately moving to interlace their fingers together and rest at the back of his neck. "Emma, what are you doing?"

The smile fell promptly off her face and her eyebrows knitted themselves together in confusion. "I was… I just…" her hands moved to rest lightly on her knees as she looked at them with hurt-filled eyes. "I thought you liked me." she whispered softly.

Blaine sighed in response, moving so he perched himself on the edge of the sofa and placed his hands over hers, causing her to look up at him with those (hurt, confused, _hopeful_) eyes.

"Listen, Emma… You're a really good friend – seriously, I mean that – and you're beautiful, both inside and out, but… I don't see you in that way."

He gulped as he saw tears begin to fill her eyes and her lips purse before she spoke. "It's okay, I should have known. It's just… you're so nice, you know? And you're pretty easy on the eyes and… yeah." There was a pregnant pause before she spoke again. "Is there another girl?"

Blaine jumped in shock as hazel eyes widened. "What? No – "

But Emma was on a roll. "It's Cindy Howard, isn't it? I can't really see the appeal to be honest – I'm _so_ much better than her – "

"Of course you are, Emma, but seriously, I'm not – "

"Oh! Of course! Marie Spencer! How didn't I get that before – "

Blaine placed his hands on either side of the girl, causing her to stop her mid-rant as he looked at her with unsure eyes. "Listen, Emma, there is no other girl."

She raised an eyebrow in response, waiting for him to continue.

"Well, you see… I am… uhhh…"

He took a deep breath, looking away from his friend for a few seconds (because this could either go really, really well or really, really bad and he was hoping it would be the former) before turning back to her and blurting out his deepest secret:

"I'm gay."

He smiled as he said it, because it felt amazing to finally get that out to _someone_ –

Even if that someone was looking at him like he had unknowingly sprouted four heads and was moving around the room at a high speed.

The teen frowned as Emma began to pick up her belongings, confusion and terror beginning to run through him. "Where are you going?"

She just finished buttoning her jacket and was moving towards her bag when he sprung the question at her, causing her to freeze up with her arm outstretched and gaze glued to the floor. "I… uh… I forgot I had to be home really soon, and I'm going to be late if I don't leave – "

It felt like he was being stabbed in the heart as the feeble excuse fell through her lips, but he shrugged her off and moved towards her. "Here, let me lead you to – "

"I think I can find my own way out, Blaine." she spoke with a voice that was cold in tone and laced with venom as she picked up her bag and made her way towards the front door without looking back. "Bye."

Mumbling something under her breath, Emma threw open the door and slammed it behind her, leaving Blaine alone as windows quaked at her exit and the teen shook at her response to his biggest secret, the words she last said repeating themselves over and over again in his head.

"_**I thought they were just rumours."**_

A match had been set alight, and for the second time that year, he was alone.


	4. iii

**iii.**

Blaine was under the impression that Emma's exit the night before changed everything – he wasn't aware that what happens the next day in school would practically change the _world_.

Everyone watched as Blaine walked into school by himself, smug smiles and wicked grins on their faces as they realise that he finally knows his place in this school – that no one wants to be seen with him because of who he is, that he was disgusting and worthless and deserving of all the slurs they throw at him – and that they really never forgot about the rumours they wholeheartedly believe.

And they're right to a certain extent – he knows that if anyone learns of his secret, then everything about him will be tainted and a target will appear on him, but he knows that just because of the lifestyle he's going to be living in doesn't mean that he's any of the things they call him. He's planning on talking to Emma and to make sure that she says nothing to anyone so he can go back to pretending like everything's okay.

(He isn't aware of the anger threatening to spill over as it bubbles unsteadily inside of him, just _waiting_ to be pushed the wrong way and tip over.)

It's lunch when he finds her talking to someone she used to complain about _all the fucking time_ and as he approaches the table he can see her visibly shrink. He sits beside her, trying to see what he did wrong when she finally spills that she has a problem with people who are gay, which just pushes him in the wrong way…

And her words catch everyone's attention, and Blaine can feel the white hot anger that flows through his body as she talks about her father's stupid opinions and how her father is always right, and then he's spitting words violently at her face –

("I'm _sick_ of people telling me that being gay is wrong – there's nothing 'wrong' about it, it's perfectly _fine_ to like the same gender - So now I'm going to have to drop down to your subordinate level and tell you that your father is _wrong_ - that _you're_ in the wrong, too - and I'm completely right, because it doesn't matter if one person shuns me, or if an entire school does the same – heck, I don't care if the entire _world_ decides that I'm not worth anything – I'm still going to be here, sane and well and okay, while you all continue living a _lie_. The world has changed, most of the people that inhabit it have changed and laws are _changing_, and I pity those of you who can't accept that liking anyone who isn't the opposite sex is not disgusting and immoral and is, in fact, a beautiful thing, because you're all a bunch of fucking _idiots_. Get off your high horses and open your eyes before you decide what's right and what's wrong, because you're all hypocrites and you all need to learn that love is love, no matter who it's aimed at, and that's the truth. I hope that your family, my family and everyone who's listening learn that being gay is okay, because you all knew me before the truth and I haven't changed one bit since the rumour broke out. _Fuck you __**all**__._")

He watches as she drops the lighted match onto withered thoughts and everything he's worked to deter becomes engulfed in flames. He watches as she runs away and the gentle whispers before have turned into vicious threats, and he looks at the wild fire than burns in their eyes and the smoke that billows from their ferocious slurs smother him in a way that _burns_.

He witnesses his downfall at this school and stalks out the front gates without a care in the world.


	5. iv

**iv.**

It's towards the beginning of his sophomore year when Blaine realises just how much of an idiot he can be. He was hoping that because of the summer people would have somehow forgotten that he had admitted to liking people of the same gender, and, of course, the only things they remembered from his speech was his sexuality and how he called them all idiots.

_Fantastic_.

Previously indirect slurs are now thrown at his face, the trips more often and glares even more threatening than before. One jock decided to try pushing him into lockers, and as everyone laughed at 'the gay' struggling to get up they came to the conclusion that this new method was _awesome_.

(Blaine's pretty sure that if he didn't call them all idiots then it probably wouldn't be this bad.)

(Well, he thinks so, anyway.)

Then another new kid arrives in town, one who's already stated that he plays for his team, and that leaves Blaine and the kid as each other's lifelines. He learns after a few months that his name is John Waters, a quiet and timid boy who's in most of his classes and enjoys musicals, playing the guitar and many other things that Blaine quite enjoys, too.

So when the Sadie Hawkins dance comes up and his father _demands_ that he goes (to keep up the perfect Anderson charade more than anything else) he thinks _what the heck? _and asks John to be his date. He gives a wary "yes" in reply and Blaine tries to tone his grin down just a little bit in case it raises suspicion amongst those who aren't welcome to 'their kind'.

When the day arrives and the two of them enter the hall in their somewhat matching suits, the chatter and the laughter that was happening around them suddenly turns quiet and all eyes are on them. Blaine just rolls his own in response as John freezes up and drags them to a table far away from prying eyes.

Soon after that the talking returns to normal and all eyes return to their dates, and in the end they both end up having a really good time dancing and talking about anything and everything without a care in the world. He's glad that he decided to do this, and he's really glad that John's suspicions weren't right, and Blaine decides that he can let himself go and not worry about anyone planning on jumping them.

He realises that their defences should have been kept up all night when he's waiting for John's father to pick them up.

They're both talking about the night – about how great it was and how they should _definitely_ do something like this again – and Blaine's laughing at a joke the other teen's saying when he hears a number of voices yelling in the distance and his laughter becomes a gurgle as he chokes and freezes in fear.

They come closer and closer, and in turn Blaine faces the riot that he knows he's going to have to face, and before he can even get a word out there's a pair of hands gripping the lapels of his blazer and lifting him so he's met with a pair of glaring, coal black eyes.

Blaine gulps as the jock begins speaking, stale breath mixed with the stench of alcohol slapping him in the face every time he opens his damn mouth, and he decides that he can't even pay attention to what he's harping on about because it smells like a goddamn _compost heap_ in there.

The teen isn't entirely sure, but he thinks that he _may_ have said that out loud.

He's pretty sure he must have, because it's the only explanation he has as to why he's suddenly curled himself into a foetal position on the ground as a bunch of the guys previously watching begin to kick the _absolute crap out of him_. A few of them break away to attack his companion, but he watches as John runs off into the night, jocks trying to sprint after him.

(Blaine isn't sure if he should be happy that he's getting away or angry at the bastard for leaving him here by himself.)

By the time John's father appears in his rusty Ford, Blaine feels as though he's been beaten black and blue and he's almost certain that he's broken a lot of bones, so when John's father seems to have made them all stumble away as he approached and his son drags himself slowly towards the man (Blaine notices that he's only got a black eye and a few bruises, and he's fuming silently at how _unfair_ this entire ordeal is) John's father picks him up and gently puts him on the backseat, mumbling something about hospitals and parents and never coming back to that godforsaken school, but before he can even respond to anything he's hearing there's a throbbing pain in his chest and everything just fucking hurts and he can feel the darkness closing in around him…

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><p>…So the next time he wakes up, he's expecting the bright lights and the monitors gently thrumming and beeping in the background and even the pain that hasn't yet been hit by the drugs.<p>

He gets the shock of his life when he sees both his mother and father gently talking to a doctor by his bedside table as he tried to listen into their discussion

"…he'll be free to go tomorrow – we just need to do some more tests and get the casts on him, but when he returns home he'll need to be looked after with the utmost of care, and he'll probably need to be bedridden for at least a few days…"

"We can keep the maids looking after him while we're working." A gruff voice responds, and Blaine would roll his eyes if everything didn't fucking hurt so much, but he decides to keep his movements to a minimum when he hears his mother voice hum in agreement and sees the doctor's lips turn into a frown. She begins naming them his prescriptions and they just look bored sitting there by their injured son's bedside, and as they all watch the doctor leave a heavy silence fills the room, broken after a few minutes later when his father begins to prattle about business and fortunes and money and how this rumour that's been going around the town about the Anderson heir being as bent as "one of those European roundabout things" is causing a bit of a dent to their monthly income.

Blaine squeezes his eyes closed, wishing more than anything that his parents could even a little bit understanding when he comes out, and wishing that the drugs currently humming around his body can help him to drift away.

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><p><strong>Apologies for the lack of detail on the Sadie Hawkins dance - I had absolutely no idea what it was and google didn't really help much o\**

**Next up: more angst in the form of Blaine's family. Hoorah! (It'll end soon, I swear!)**

**Also, reviews would be lovely. ;D**


	6. v

**Sorry for the delay! I got so stuck with this one and the two after it, I actually ended up writing nearly every one apart from the last one! So much for it all being uploaded in one day, haha. Massive thanks to Erin (Flutterbypav) and Hannah (anartistwhoselosthertouch) for being my cheerleaders and helping to catch all the spelling mistakes! \o/  
><strong>

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><p><strong>v.<strong>

Blaine isn't sure what he finds more painful – being beaten up by about four jocks or having to sit in a car for half an hour with his mother.

The silence itself is deafening, a thick and unwanted tension hanging in the air above them, and Blaine gets the distinct feeling that she _really_ doesn't want to be here - the only way he was going to be released from the hospital was for one parent to sign him out as he was underage, and both parents didn't want to be left with the task. After much discussion between them, both trying to use work as a excuse to get out of it, his mother gave a sigh of defeat and told her son in that toneless (_sharp, bitter, frigid_) tone of hers that she would (rather reluctantly) be here the next day to collect him.

(Although he knew that they found their jobs more important than their only son, Blaine was still a bit hurt when none of them jumped up automatically to come, but he was adamant that they would never find that out.)

In the silence, when Blaine finally got tired of watching as they flew past them in a multitude of swirling colours and listening to the rain pelt the roof of the car –falling with not enough force to do anything damaging to the structure but just enough to be heard over the purr of the engine – he moved his gaze so it rested on his mother.

It wasn't as if his mother wasn't attractive – no, Sarah Anderson was _much_ too beautiful to even be considered repulsive – it was just her personality that had been tainted over the years. Her heart-shaped face looked soft to the touch, a ruby red painted over plump lips and teal eyes framed by long, dark lashes that tell the receiver of one of her many patented looks that despite her young age she could quite literally tear you down. The only physical trait he had acquired from his mother, as far as he could tell, would be her chocolate brown hair, which held tight curls and were normally thrown up in an elegant bun of some sort.

And it was almost as if she could feel his gaze on him and her eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, glancing at him before returning her sight to the road.

"What exactly did you do to land yourself in this position?" she asked in a scolding tone, and he rolled his eyes a tiny bit in response.

"Nothing. They just came at me." He spoke loud and clear, eyes watching even more cars passing by and wishing every second that he was on one.

Sarah's lips pulled into a frown as she glanced towards her son and then back towards the window again. "So, you have no idea?"

Blaine pursed his lips, thinking about telling her. But then he remembered the conversation she had with her husband the other day – gay son equals bad business, and they couldn't have that, could they? What would they do with him if they found out?

So instead he shook his head, noticing that there are suddenly more silver cars than red.

Sarah sighed heavily and continued driving, effectively ending the conversation.

She didn't ask how Blaine was doing. She didn't ask if he would like to listen to music, or if there was anything he would like to say, and she _definitely_ didn't address the pink elephant in the vehicle.

(Although, she probably wouldn't have noticed it if it was somehow wearing her favourite ice blue ball gown and his father's deep black waistcoat while dancing the samba.)

(It looked like she was convinced that Blaine had gone crazy when he burst out laughing (before wincing to a stop) at the mental image it portrayed.)

Blaine let out a long sigh of relief when the cars along the roadside began to whittle down car finally pulled up the driveway, quickly grabbing his crutches and slowly making his way towards the house. Sarah swiftly made their way inside, thankfully remembering to keep the door open this time, and he realised that he probably wouldn't see his mother for the rest of the day. Blaine hobbled in, taking in the marble-floored navy-walled foyer and the maids scattered around the hall before slowly dragging himself towards the chrome lift beside the stairs.

It took a few minutes, but when he finally arrived in his room he plonked himself on the bed and looked around.

There wasn't much of him in the room, he noted – there was his acoustic guitar Sami in the far right corner, a bookcase containing his favourite novels and those he had yet to read beside an alcove which held a window and a place to sit, and a desk which contained a few sheets of homework and music at the other side of the room. There were no pictures, no stuffed animals, nothing that would scream that Blaine Anderson resides here.

With another sigh and a heave, the teen made his way to the alcove, picking up a copy of 'Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire' when he passed by the bookcase and gently stretched himself(as gracefully as one can with a cast on one leg and one arm) across the seat, staring wistfully out the window and playing absentmindedly with the battered cover. He took a deep breath, opening up the cover and swiftly becoming immersed with the final moments of Frank Bryce.

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><p>The Weasley-Diggory Clan had just arrived at the Quidditch World Cup when three knocks were pounded against the door, causing Blaine to point a finger to the last word he was reading and look up to see who interrupted him. In entered the man that Blaine, quite frankly, really didn't want to see right now.<p>

While Blaine did get _some_ of his traits from his mother, he got the majority of them from one Michael Anderson – his salt and pepper hair was slightly curly, gel taming it lightly as emotionless hazel eyes peered out under heavy lids. Wrinkles had been kind to him over the years, the only ones he managed to get were on his forehead due to frowning too much and his lips were almost always twisted into a grimace. He was standing at the door with his hands as fists, skin over the knuckles taut and white in an effort to keep calm.

"Dinner will be ready in half an hour." He said simply, not moving his gaze away from his son and the temptation to delve straight back into his sanctuary-that-doesn't-really-exist was rising with every second his father was staring at him with those beady eyes of his, but in the end he sighed and decided that he had to be the one to start this conversation.

"Anything else?" he questioned, making sure that no sarcasm managed to make itself known in the tone he spoke with, and in response Michael pursed his lips and moved so he was standing right outside the alcove where Blaine was seated. They both just looked at each other, both willing for the other to look away until his father sighed and made his way towards the other side of the seat and perched delicately at the end of it. Michael opened his mouth a few times, almost as if he was looking for the right words, when he sighed again and pinched the bridge of his nose before looking up to meet his sons eyes.

"What… happened?" he asked in a gruff tone, raising a fist to cough into it before gesturing at the cuts on his body and the casts moulded to various limbs. "How did you get like _this_?"

Blaine blinked at the sudden lack of caring before shrugging it off, returning his gaze to the dragon on the cover of the book and raising a finger to lightly trace over it. There was another sigh (and seriously, Blaine could probably create a book on the type of sighs Michael Anderson made along with every detail, like what they entailed, why they were released - )

"Is it because of the rumours?" he asked pointedly and Blaine had never wanted to roll his eyes so much, although that was mostly going to be for show. It was the perfect opportunity to come out to at least one parent in the hope that they would understand what was happening and they could get him out of that hell hole they called school…

But his mouth and vocal chords refused to co-operate with him, and he shrugged again, still outlining the reptilian creature on the cover. There was a sound made – one that Blaine wasn't exactly sure of. Acceptance? Irritation? _Giving up?_ – and then a hand clapped his cast-free calf and Michael Anderson was walking towards the door. Blaine was getting ready to heave his own sigh of relief when his father's emotionless face edged around the opening of the door.

"When you're ready to talk about it, your mother and I will be… around." He began, moving slightly in so Blaine could still see his father's fists clenched tightly. "But if it's just kids knocking you around and they went too far, well then… I supposed it isn't that big of a deal."

The teen could have sworn his mouth feel open so wide you could fit a goddamn _giraffe_ in there.

"Kids will be kids!" he continued, staring at the teen in a way that made him seem almost worthless. "And there's no need for all this… stuff. You just need to be careful next time and make sure you hit them back just as hard!" A pause, and a twitch of his lips that lasted literally nought-point-five seconds. "Life just ain't as hard as some people make it out to be."

And with that, he made his way out the room, and Blaine tried to gain back his senses by picking his jaw off the floor and opening his book back to the page he was at.

But he was now finding it hard to concentrate on the words – he didn't care that they had just entered a tent that was at least twenty times bigger than itself, or that team rivalry was beginning to cause havoc all over the area. All he could think about was how oblivious his father could be. A little push and shove could have caused his injuries? _Yeah, right._

Shaking his head, Blaine came to the conclusion there that even if he looked more like his father, he pretty much took after his own mother when it came to their personalities.


	7. vi

**Ugh, I swear, I tried to upload this all of yesterday but this site wouldn't allow me too. But good news - I managed to get my first review on this thing (yay!), I've actually finished writing it (8D) and this is going to be a double update... that ends with Dalton, which means...**

**Oh yes. Kurt's going to be in this _real soon_****.  
><strong>

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><p><strong>vi.<strong>

It wasn't as if Blaine was _not_ used to his parents talking about him – oh no, he was _far_ too used to that. As a child growing up they were always talking about how he was going to lead the family name into some sort of Anderson revolution and how he was destined the become the model child for families _everywhere_.

But Blaine knew he wasn't perfect – sure, he was doing well in school and he could easily grow up to take on some part of the family business, but his parents were under the illusion that he was well liked, and that was _not_ true. Not one bit.

So they liked to go all 'wax poetic' when it came to talking about him – how he keeps everything in order, how he studies and actually _passes_ his exams, how the girls (_bleugh_) were falling all over for him...

Normally when this happened, he would be able to roll his eyes and simply walk away and forget that his parents hold him on some kind of pedastal. Normally, he could make them see him in a _good_ light instead of what they would do if they found out that the rumours are _kindasorta__**really**_ true.

But since he's been stuck at home for the past few days since his release, it seems as though that all they talk about is the sudden situation that's arisen (mostly about him and his education and, well, him in general) and there's literally _no way_ he can avoid all of this 'talk' _this_ time.

They're bickering whenever they see each other – his mother wanting to send him to Dalton Academy and his father saying he should stick to the original school so it would 'toughen him up'. As much as he wanted to throw in his opinion, he knew that it would obviously go unheard (they knew what was best for their child... right?) so there was no point in even trying to _fight_ against it.

Until that one moment you snap and you just let everything loose and you can't control yourself. He knew it was coming – it was inevitable, if he was being honest...

He just wasn't expecting it to be so _soon_.

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><p>Blaine's been listening to this for Three. Entire. Days. And he is <em>so close<em> to giving them a piece of his mind...

But no, he says to himself – he shouldn't just spout out his opinion because they're annoying the absolute hell out of him, because not only is that considered rude, but it's also considered impractical, _especially_ for where they're taking this _right now_.

Dinner is important, Blaine thinks, but for his mother, well... she holds the daily event very close to her heart. It's a thing she's allowed to organise to her hearts content and it's something she enjoys doing, looking after people...

(Well, she used to enjoy it anyway.)

But at the moment they've taken their latest family fued about their son to a place where this sacred act is conducted, and said son really has no option but to hear them refer to him in the third person without one single goddamn consideration for him as a _human being_ –

"Michael, he was beaten! He broke _bones_! I do _not_ wish for _our_ son to be brought up in an unsafe environment like that!"

A sigh. "Sarah, listen. It was just a little rough play, that's all! He told me that _himself_ – "

_(Stay. Calm.)_

"What, and this so called 'rough play' involves him being beaten black and blue? No, I don't think so. I won't stand for this!"

"Sweetie, there's one thing you need to know about boys – they enjoy messing around, and sometimes they do get hurt in the process. It's what makes them stronger!"

_(Count to ten, Blaine. Just, __**count to ten**__. One... Two... Three...)_

"It shouldn't be allowed, that's what! They're just jealous that our son's the smartest kid in town! That he's going to be in control of the Anderson name in the future! And that's _exactly_ what you said about the two of you building a car last year when the rumours began to spread, right? It's _bullying_, Michael – "

_(Four... Fi__**ve... Six...**_)

"Nonsense, nonsense! The kid is _fifteen_, he's allowed to fall over and get hurt with the guys! And for your information, if he goes to some all boys school – "

_**(Seven... Eight...)**_

"It'll just make those _rumours __worse_ –"

_**(Nine...)**_

"And that's exactly why business is diabolical at the moment, because of some stupid lie that our kid is a fa – "

_**SLAM.**_

The silence that follows after Blaine slams his fist onto the table is one that cannot be described. The two adults stare wide-eyed at their son, mouths agape and hands raised towards their chest in shock, and Blaine?

Blaine Anderson is _**infuriated**_.

He's tired of these games. He's tired of having to sit and watch as his parents plan out his future for him when he's _more_ than capable of doing it himself. He's tired of hiding behind a facade and lying about who he is because of _them_.

He can feel something snap in him, like someone's let a rabid dog off its leash and it's allowed to roam free or a coil that's been held tight and is suddenly released from its imprisonment, and as he looked between his parents...

Blaine just doesn't understand why they're controlled _everything_ about him.

"If you're going to plan something about my future, then make sure that you address me like I'm a person," he begins, voice shaking and hands gripping onto the edge of the table. "I'm not your pawn. I'm not someone that can be played for your own monopoly. Have you even asked what I want to do?" He looks inbetween them, words coming out as a snarl for every single thing he says. "You guys... you don't even ask how I am. Do you know how _unusual_ that is? That parents find jobs more important than children? It doesn't happen because it _shouldn't_ happen and you're using your son as a way to continue on – "

Michael interrupts now, prepared to stand up as his nostrils flare slightly. "Now listen here, Blaine – "

"Don't even think about interruping me," he spits, turning to face his father at a speed that could have twisted his head off his body, "Because I know you're just going to spout more lies, and it's about time the truth gets approached. _**Let me finish**_." Blaine growls, continuing without allowing anyone else to speak. "I don't _want_ to continue on your so called 'legacy'. It isn't for me." He looked between the two of them again. "And I'm guessing you won't even want me to continue it when you find out that the rumours - yeah, you know the ones that are circulating about me being gay? Well, guess what. They're _one-hundred percent __**true**_**.**"

The silence that falls upon them is not a comfortable one – it's thick and sterile and everything that it _shouldn't_ be, and he needs to get out of there_ right now_.

Blaine stands up on two unsteady feet (after all, one is encased in plaster), grabbing his crutches from beside the table and getting himself comfortable in them before turning back to look at his still shellshocked parents. "Don't come looking for me. I'll come looking for you when I'm ready."

And with that he hops out the back door, wishing to get as far away from this house as far as he can although he knows thats rather impossible.

He's also beginning to think that he might need to find a way to control his temper.


	8. vii

**vii.**

Blaine had a feeling that he was being petulant and immature and _incredibly_ bratty, but there was no way in hell he was going to go back in there after coming out to his parents in the worst way possible. Although, it wasn't as if he was able to go far anyway - being in crutches had limited his getaway to his backgarden, and he had currently taken refuge under the large oak tree that had _always_ been there.

(He thinks it might have to do with it being the only thing in this house that's never changed, but then he realises that everything changes – his friends have changed, his family have changes and the tree will change, too. Leaves wither and die and then grow again. Rinse, lather, repeat. It was just the way it worked.)

(And sometimes he really _hates_ himself for thinking too much about things.)

But, then again, he can't help but think that things are changing – everything's changing around him and for some reason he's never really noticed it. He's hoping that it's a good thing too.

He's been sitting outside for two hours, the dark creeping in as the light fades away and Blaine realises that he really can't do anything productive sitting outside. It won't make a difference _at all._

But returning to the house might change something.

And it's with that thought that he makes his way inside, sliding in through the back door and hobbling towards the living room where he knew his parents would be waiting. He sees the back of their heads; they hear his somewhat laboured breathing as he treks through the house on one working foot. They somehow manage to meet each others gazes at the same time, and Blaine decides that if everything around him is changing, then he might aswell change, too.

So he sits down with his parents and tells them everything – he tells them about the rumours and how they're true; he tells them about how he outed himself in front of the whole school when he lost a close friend (and yes, it _was_ that Emma one – no, her name wasn't Emily) and how his peers have resented him ever since; about the Sadie Hawkins dance and the jocks that beat him up for basically taking a guy with him (ignoring the part about how he insulted him – he had a feeling they wouldn't want to know about that.) and how it's ended up now in their living room.

He moves swiftly on, of course – "I don't want to go back to that school," he tells his stone-faced father; "I wouldn't mind going to Dalton Academy," he tells his ice-queen mother. He tells them that's everything he has to say and that if there's anything else they would like to add then fire away.

The silence that follows his opening is undescribable – the emotions hanging above them like a canopy (somewhat viscous and overflowing) tension crackling and thrumming in the air above them and the only sounds being heard are sighs and heavy breathing and the odd creak in their aging house.

He gives one stiff nod in their direction and makes his way towards the elevator.

* * *

><p>The week after that is somewhat surreal. Papers are signed, meetings are held, situations are explained.<p>

The two weeks after that have a dream-like quality to them. His parents send a maid to clear out his locker at school, he begins to pack a suitcase to Dalton filled with all he can take (which isn't much, really) and as his mother hands him the Dalton uniform, he can feel himself smile for the first time in a very, very long time.

Within the month, he's walking through the front doors, the smell of varnish thick in the air and the sparkling floors showing reflections better than any mirror can. He's greeted by two Juniors – David and Wes, they call themselves – who help him around the school and show him how the school works and smile when he asks if the Zero Tolerence Bullying Policy is _really_ enforced.

The two of the look at each other, grinning lightly before turning back to a very nervous Blaine and they both put an arm on either shoulder, giving him a few reassuring pats.

And for the first time since he first came out to Emma Johnston, he feels as though he can grin again.

* * *

><p><strong>DAAALTON. *Showers with hearts*<strong>

**This is almost literally the end of the angst - the majority of updates are going to be fluff, and I'll be uploading one a day (because I'm mean, haaa).**  
><strong>(Also, I totally typed "Zero Tolerence Bullying Police" before by accident, which I only got while I was proof reading. The mental image of it existing made me laugh really, really hard. Or maybe that's because I had been awake the entire night.)<strong>


	9. viii: interlude

**The last Kurt-less chapter. Huzzah! Again, thanks to _Flutterbypav_ and _anartistwhoselosthertouch_ for being cheerleaders and just plain awesome.**

* * *

><p><strong>viii.<strong>

{_interlude:  
>welcome to dalton<em>_._}

_The sound of footsteps and hushed murmurs from stragglers; a bark of laughter and shuffling of shoe-clad feet meeting cold, marble flooring; doors swishing open and the sound of a phone being thrown onto its pedastal; the scuffing of footwear and the thunk-thunk-__**clang**__ of coins being pushed into a slot with shaking fingers;_

_Ring, ring._

_Ring, ring._

_Ring, ring._

_Ring, ri – _

_A cold voice that crackles through the line, tone clipped and professional._

"Hey, mom. It's me. Blaine."

_Cold becomes cool; clipped becomes curious; professional becomes protected._

"Yeah, you know, bi-monthly phone call like I promised."

_Exasperated mumbling._

"I – I know, mom." _Exasperated sigh in response_. "Yes, I understand. I'll try not to do that again."

_Humming in approval and an (un)interested question._

"My grades are fine, I guess. I mean, it's a lot more difficult than any of the things I was doing in – "

_Words being snapped like a whip; an audible flinch from the reciever..._

"No, I haven't done anything wrong – " _disapproving tone; deep inhalation from the recievee_. "...Alright. I just wanted to hear your voice. Is that what you wanted to know?"

_An audible bang masked by bad reception; a scolding tone turning into one of disbelief._

"Yes, I _am_ on a payphone."

_A pause. Words being hissed._

"Because I left my phone at home!"

_A second bang accompanying a heavy sigh and mumbling._

"Look, mom, I'm sorry, okay? I don't mean to be such a – "

_Snarling and snarky comments and irritable disgust curling through the reviever; lengthy silence punctuated by distant jeering and laboured breathing from both ends._

_Apologies practically going in one ear canal and seeping through the other._

_(Like normal.)_

"It's fine. I know it's the job. You don't need to apologise."

_Voice speaking so softly it's almost impossible to hear._

"I miss you too."

_Irritable sigh; venom lacing the strained voice._

"Okay, I understand. I'll talk to you soon. Tell dad I say 'Hi'."

_Response spoken in a rush, words tumbling together and not making much sense._

"I love you t – "

_Dial tone._

_An (Upset? Irritated? Angry? Disappointed?) __**expected**__ sigh explodes in the silence; the slam of a phone on its pedastal; steps fading away from its previous spot; a light mumbling from a choked up oice that reverberates off Dalton's wooden walls._

"I wish I could prove them wrong."


	10. ix

**Thanks to everyone who's reviewed/favourited/alerted! In return, I give you Klaine plates. There's some angst in this one, but not as much as anything before.  
><strong>**Also: YAY KURT!  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong>ix.<strong>

Blaine can't help but feel, as he's running out of English five minutes late for the Warbler's impromptu performance in the Senior Commons, that the first half of his Junior year at Dalton is so much _better_ than the starting-half of his Sophomore year, and he isn't exactly sure _why_.

Maybe its because he managed to get the highly coveted 'Lead Soloist' title in the Dalton Academy Warblers (the grin on his face when he thinks of it only _increases_ with time) and managed to get a small nod of acknowledgement from his father. Maybe its because for once he actually has friends that don't care that he's gay or that he has this mild affinity for naming objects (he constantly has to remind his fellow Warblers that Sami is, in fact, his guitar, and not some 'chick' he created over the summer term to get the guys to 'dig him', _thank you very much_.)

He comes to the conclusion, as he sprints lightly down the rounding starcase near his 'shortcut', that although those are two _very_ good reasons to be grinning to himself, that isn't why. It's beginning to really frustrate him as he tries to make it down the stairs without tripping over his feet, the level of concentration apparent on his face, and he's so into figuring out what exactly makes him want break out into song before he reaches his fellow Warblers that he almost misses the timid voice that calls out in his general direction.

"**Excuse me?"**

(it breaks into his thoughts like the shock of Snape actually being the _good guy_ throughout the Harry Potter novels - )

"**Uhm, Hi. Can I ask you a question?"**

(and wow, Blaine thinks, he really needs to think of better comparisons for shock because that _really_ doesn't work well, but it's as he's turning around to face the voice - )

"**I'm new here."**

He finally notices where the voice is coming _from_, and it's as he takes in perfectly coiffed chesnut locks, a breathtaking smile and a pair of what could be bejeweled eyes that he can feel his mouth fall open slightly and all the breath in him get stolen by the sight of the boy in front of him.

It takes him a few seconds, of course, to notice two things:

One, he isn't wearing Dalton uniform, and Blaine's thinking that maybe (_just maybe_) this kid might actually be a kid from one of their rival glee clubs coming to spy on him them... or maybe he's actually checking out the school before he moves, which is very, very unlikely, but then again, it _could_ be a possibility.

Second of all, Blaine hasn't said anything for a few seconds and he more than likely resembles a fish out of water, so he should probably say something that isn't stupid and doesn't make him look like he's been staring at the other teen because he's quite possibly the most _gorgeous_ person Blaine has _ever_ seen during his (rather bittersweet) sixteen years of life. So he introduces himself, and he's kind of congratulating himself for not saying anything ridiculous and setting a very, very bad impression of himself.

But then it's two minutes later, when he realises that he's super late for the impromptu performance and he's taking Kurt down his 'shortcut', that he comes to the realisation that maybe his first point wasn't exactly correct. He notices how the other teen, whose name he learns is Kurt (and he's trying _not_ to find out how easily his name rolls off his tongue), is looking at his surroundings with wide eyes and mouth agape, and all Blaine can think is 'Hey, that's exactly what I was like when I looked at Dalton's interior, too.'

And then he's thinking.

They walk into the commons, Kurt making an offhand comment on how he sticks out like a sore thumb and Blaine responding with a simple "then don't forget your jacket, new kid – you'll fit right in" as a hand reaches out automatically to fix the lapel of his jacket _which didn't even need to be fixed_ (And Blaine really has no idea why the hell he even did that in the first place), and then the lead soloist is walking away and singing a song about putting hands on skin tight jeans and _flirting_ with Kurt like there's no tomorrow (he'll justify it later on, when Kurt's walked out the room and his fellow Warblers begin to question him about that kid who was watching their performance and was somehow able to _ignore_ fistpumping Dan, that he was a cute guy, and in his head he'll tack on that making him smile like that was worth more than his weight in gold.)

It's with that questioning, however, that he realises that Kurt might be like him when he first arrived in Dalton – he's tired of fighting, his shell has been shamelessly cracked one too many times where he's currently getting an education, and it isn't allowing for him to piece himself back together.

Blaine realises that Kurt just needs somewhere to _heal_ for a while.

He manages to convince Wes and David to have coffee with the teen, and that's where he gets Kurt's number and teaches him about 'courage' and manages to spill a little bit about his past without even realising it (and then he wonders how he's known the kid for all of ten minutes and given the blunt answer of his transfer when it took at least two months and twelve cups of coffee for Blaine to even admit to Wes and David that kids at his old school didn't _like_ him all that much, that's all.) They text over the next few days, and when conversation runs dry or Kurt doesn't reply for a few hours he makes sure to text him 'Courage' just so he's aware that Blaine's prepared to talk to him whenever he needs it.

He isn't prepared for the phone call he gets a few hours after he sends the word for the fifth time, where all he can hear is sobbing and choked intakes of breath and spluttering words that don't make sense until Kurt spits it out like it's a disease, and Blaine can feel his blood curdle with_ so many things_.

"_H-He __**kissed**__ me."_

And it's there that Blaine swears his heart breaks, because although he's only known Kurt for a short amout of time he's aware of how strongwilled and powerful and absolutely _incredible_ this teen from Lima, Ohio is, and for something as simple as a forced kiss to completely break him down just makes Blaine realise how much of an idiot _he_ can be.

Kurt stood up to his bully – it was something that Blaine wished that he could have _done_ and it's something that Kurt _did_ and he just knows that if he didn't force his own fucking thoughts onto this kid then something like this would have never happened.

Blaine knows it's all his fault, so when he blurts out that he would have a chat with this Karofsky guy he doesn't listen to Kurt trying to tell him it isn't necessary (because it's necessary for the two of them, he thinks – this is what he gets for sticking his nose into places he doesn't belong, at least) and instead manages to find out the directions to his school.

He arrives back at Dalton after the confrontation just before dinner, and as he gives a feeble smile to those who offer him their attention (which, of course, he's not _privilieged_ to recieve) he's realised two things.

The first thing: The past year hasn't changed anything – there are still idiots living in Ohio who can't handle that love is love, even if it means that it's between two guys or two girls. Not everyone has the manners and the reasoning of those educated under Dalton's strict Zero-Tolerance Bullying Policy and the real world can be cruel and harsh.

Then the second thing: Kurt's the most incredible guy Blaine has ever met. He keeps his head held high when chaos strikes and tries not to cry when the world's unreasonably cruel. It just reminds him of how awful things happen to the best people, and that life just really isn't _fair_.

But it's as he's trying sleeping that night, with the sheets tangled around his legs and a light sheen of sweat sticking to his skin that makes him glisten faintly in the moonlight that drifts in through his window, he comes to the _big_ realisation:

Falling in love with Kurt could be so simple, so flawless, so _amazing_... but he can't let that happen.

Kurt doesn't need someone to kiss his fears away, or someone to whisper sweet nothings in his ear when someone calls him some derogatory term – he just needs someone to hold him when he wants to break down and someone to rant too when the world playing tricks on him, and it really wouldn't help that Blaine would be extra baggage – there's no point lugging useless, broken goods around after you. They just hold you back. Kurt's the kind of person that needs to sprout and flourish under someone who just isn't Blaine.

Sure, it doesn't sound ideal, because Blaine wishes that Kurt could be there to remember the mundane things like how much sugar he would take in his tea or which shade of red goes with what shade of black or what he _really_ wants for his birthday, but being Kurt's friend-slash-mentor is better than him becoming really, really intimate with him, only to have him realise (_**finally**_) that he's not worth anything at all.


	11. x

**Major jump in time here - we're going from 'Never Been Kissed' to 'Night of Neglect'. Also, there's virtually no angst. Yay!**

* * *

><p><strong>x.<strong>

This 'Night of Neglect' is _strange_, he thinks.

It just kinda of reminds him how... uncool Glee clubs can be – the only ones there, asides from both him and Kurt, are only there to heckle the performances and Blaine just thinks it's the worst thing in the world. Tina runs off the stage halfway through her song sobbing, viewers jeering and taunting her and he can only sit there as he watches her hard work just be torn down like that. There's a comforting squeeze on his hand and he looks over to see that Kurt's eyes are beginning to fill up.

He squeezes gently in return, because they're both in this for the long haul, and at this current moment in time they need to know that they're together no matter what the haters say.

* * *

><p>They make the mutual decision to see how the New Directions are doing at the interval, and they're just rounding the corner to the choir room when they see Rachel marching out of the room, muttering to herself and wrapping her coat around her tightly. They both stop and stare as she walks past, Blaine noting in amusement as she finally realises that they've walked past and that they're heading into the room she's just exited and all the features on her face widen with horror.<p>

Blaine winces as Rachel literally screeches at them to not go anywhere _near_ that room, and they're both stuck to the ground as she continues mumbling incoherently to herself and barges through the door leading outside. He catches Kurt looking at him from the corner of his eye, and as he turns his hazel eyes to meet the other teen's glasz (because he just _had_ to look up the colour of his blue-green-grey his eyes, it had been bugging him for _far_ too long) gaze he catches a bit of mischief hidden in his smirk. It's promptly forgotten as Kurt drags him into the closest classroom which _isn't_ the choir room, and then Blaine finds out how they're _really_ going to be spending the interval.

* * *

><p>There's ten minutes left until the show starts again, the duo somehow managing to manouvere themselves so Kurt is sitting on the teachers desk, arms wrapped around Blaine's neck and legs wrapped around his torso as the other teen stands inbetween his legs and moves his hands so they alternate between cupping Kurt's face and resting them on either side of his boyfriend, doing everything from soft and sweet kisses to twisting their tongues togetherexploring each other's mouths with a fervent and passionate manner, when they have their first serious conversation since "willyougooutwithme?"

Kurt removes his lips from Blaine's, looking at him through heavily lidded eyes and smiling with kiss swollen lips. "You know, I've always wanted to do this." He speaks softly, toying with the slightly curled non-gelled hair at the nape of the other teen's neck.

Blaine, having been throughly distracted by how blotchy and oh-so-red his other half's face has become during their time in the spanish classroom and how _wow_, that looks like a _really_ good spot on his neck for his lips to explore, only manages to come up with a simple "hmm?" as a response, causing the other teen to lightly roll his eyes.

"I was thinking... I've always wanted to do _this_." He says again, removing a hand from the back of Blaine's neck to guesture between the two of them.

In response, Blaine just blinks at him while arching one triangular eyebrow and trying not to smile really, really widely. "You've always wanted to make out with someone on your Spanish-teacher-slash-glee-club-director's desk?"

Kurt groans, leaning to hide his face feebly behind his free hand while twirling a bit of Blaine's hair at the back of his neck using his otherwise-occupied hand. "Don't start. I know you get a kick out of finding these strange 'fantasys' about me."

Blaine purses his lips, because he _totally_ does.

In the best way possible, of course.

Then Kurt's looking up with one of _those_ smirks on his faces and Blaine can feel the smile threatening to break out on his face turn into a grimace. "And you can't judge me for anything – you _totally_ had a thing for Jeremiah 'Poodle-Haired' GAP Store Manager. You sang to him in front of hundreds, if not ten, innocent shoppers about 'keeping his toys in the drawer' that night." he declares, prodding the other teen's chest with a finger to emphasise his point.

It was Blaine's turn to groan now, moving to rest his hand against Kurt's shoulder. "I thought we weren't going to talk about my past mistakes anymore?" he whines, pouting as he felt the surface under him rumble lightly due to laughter.

Kurt snorted. "Oh, don't even get me started on Miss. Rachel 'Humble-Pie' Berry!"

The shorter male whined lightly, nuzzling the taller one's shoulder with his nose. "I hate you." He mumbles, voice cracking slightly because –

"Oh, that's such a lie, and you know it." Kurt counters, finally removing his other hand from Blaine's neck to cup his face lightly and bring him up to eye level. "If you _did_ hate me, you wouldn't have asked me out, would you?"

And Blaine really tried to ponder on it, over exaggerating for his other half's benefit by removing his head from soft hands and tapping one of his calloused fingers against his chin while humming a loud. There's a small slap to his shoulder and then they're giggling at each other, keeping their sight focused on their ruffled other half and smiling as the laughter soon falls to silence. Kurt raises a hand to run his fingers through Blaine's hair, both grimacing as they remember that there's _gel_ in there and it's probably _rock hard_ but then they're smiling again as he tries to fight through the helmet forming on his head. He gives up after a while, however, and they both glance at the clock behind the desk at the same time to see that there's five minutes left.

"I really _do_ like you, you know that?" Blaine says, moving to rest his head against Kurt's shoulder again and smiling as he feels a familiar hand begin to play with the hair at the nape of his neck again. Kurt mumbles in response, twisting a lock of raven-hued hair between two fingers and and simultaneously rubbing a hand on the back of Blaine's neck, smiling as his boyfriend sags against him in bliss.

"'s feels nice." He mumbles, closing his eyes for another few minutes as his other half began to gently massage the back of his neck, and groaning when Kurt forces him to stand up, kissing him lightly before leaning back and frowning lightly.

"Ugh, this is going to be a _pain_." Kurt whines, unlocking his legs from Blaine's torso and watching them fall to the floor like his limbs have been weighed down by weights. He then tries to stand up, which would have sent him crumpling to the floor if Blaine hadn't seen it coming and wrapped one of his arms around the other teen's waist. Kurt grumbled lightly at the contact, moving to fix a stray lock of chestnut brown hair and complaining that he _totally_ could have gotten off that table without Blaine's help, thank you very much, and Blaine just chuckles in response.

They've reached the enterance to the auditorium, and he's suddenly reminded of the hecklers and the trouble makers that lie before them. He turns to look at Kurt, who somehow managed to remove himself from Blaine's grip and was stretching his legs to 'help the blood flow again' (and Blaine's suddenly thankful that he used to be apart of the Cheerio's, or he thinks that what they did in the classroom _might_ not have lasted as long) and he reaches out to gently squeeze his hand.

Kurt blinks up at him in surprise, squeezing gently back before letting go and moving towards the door, and before Blaine can stop himself he's speaking what's on his mind _again_.

"I'm sorry that it took me so long."

His voice echoed down the daunting McKinley hallways, where jocks roamed and were rarely caught terrifying any of the other students, where Kurt was driven away by his peers and somewhat into his arms, and he isn't sure if he's glad for that or really, _really_ upset. Then Kurt looks back at him with a smile that accentuates his dimples and makes the skin around those gorgeous glasz eyes crinkle _just right_ and Blaine can feel his breath being stolen _again_ and he should really have a word with Kurt about this because it honestly isn't fair –

"**Don't worry – I'm sure we would have found each other **_**somehow**_."

And with that he opened up the door, grabbing another programme as he enters and leaving Blaine to stumble in ungracefully behind him with the biggest grin on his face, and although it leaves as soon as he sees one of the hacklers (_Harry? Sarry? Wait, that's not even a name... Sandy. That's it.)_ and he begins to tell him that he's a horrible person, Kurt's there to keep him on the right track.

He isn't entirely sure, but he's thinking that Kurt'll be doing that for many years in the future.


	12. xi

**So along with lots of line breaks, I bring you Flangst! (Fluff/Angst.) Also, we're jumping from 'Night of Neglect' to 'Prom Queen'. Enjoy!  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong>xi.<strong>

Blaine wasn't sure if the differences between the Sadie Hawkins dance at his old school and McKinley High's Junior Prom was a good thing or a bad thing. But, then again, it wasn't like he was _aware_ that he was weighing them up against each other, either. It was as he was walking away at the end that he realised there were four… _main_ differences.

* * *

><p>The first difference, he noticed, was how no one really <em>cared<em> that there were two guys attending a public dance – sure, there was the odd glare and a heavily disguised scoff, but compared to the last dance Blaine had been too, what was happening around them was just child's play.

* * *

><p>The second, he picked up, had to be that there were people willing to <em>talk<em> to him. All of them from New Directions, of course, but it felt _nice_ to be included in their conversations and to be beamed at as he makes Kurt do that giggle that they're convinced they haven't seen since the start of the school year. There's a few tentative smiles thrown in his general direction, a couple of people give him a thumbs up as he stumbles from the stage after his positively electrifying performance and there's Noah Puckerman bumping Blaine's shoulder with his fist –_**you're cool, Anderson**_– and it felt so _awesome_ to be accepted so easily by those who don't know him that well at all.

* * *

><p>The third had to be that instead of him getting targeted, it was someone he loved.<p>

A lot.

(It hurt just as much, however, as he saw sobs wrack his lovers body and tears stream endlessly down those flushed porcelain cheeks. It hurt when all he could do was sit there and wait for him to calm down. It hurt when Kurt – _beautiful, gorgeous, un-fucking-_defeatable Kurt – straightened his posture and declared that he was going to beat them at their own game. It _hurt_ that he was stronger than anyone Blaine had ever known in his lifetime, and it hurt that he was soso_so_ terrified that the boy he loved was going to come out of this battle heavily scarred while a cowardly prince stood back and watched with his tail between his legs instead of coming to his rescue.)

And the events of _that_ difference had everything to do with the fourth and _final_ difference - he was facing his demons, and this time he wasn't alone. He wasn't insulting anyone with stupid remarks and putting his life in danger, nor was he standing back and allowing other people to choose what he can and can't do. He watched with watering eyes as the King snarled and strutted away, leaving his Queen to stand and fend those who deemed him _cowardly_ and _unworthy_ by himself.

And this time, he didn't even have to stall before he made himself move forward, pushing through a sea of jesters and measly town folk until he finally saw a glimmering crown and an unsure twitch of his lover's lips. He managed to break through, but the Queen hadn't yet noticed the Prince – quaking in his armour and stuttering through his movements with sheer _terror_. _A deep breath, that's all. Just remember why you're doing this_ he thought, taking a step forward and beginning to stretch out a shaking hand.

("_They can't touch me –_ ")

(**Courage**.)

(" _- They can't touch __us__ –_ ")

(**"**_**Excuse me – **_**"**)

(_" – Or what __we__ have."_)

(_**"May **__**I**__** have this dance?"**_)

(_A slight intake of breath; a glance around a crowded room; a hesitant smile and a slowly cracking exterior; the meeting of glasz and hazel;__** you can do this**_.)

(_"Yes. __**You**__** may**__."_)

* * *

><p>The final thing, he decides, would be that this time he's not leaving battered and bruised and as a collection of worthless, broken goods – he's leaving with a more… somewhat <em>confident<em> outlook at life; that things get better and people change and he should no longer feel the need to hold himself back in case his peers judge him as someone unworthy of their time.

He's looking at the teen beside him fix his perfectly coiffed chestnut locks and straighten the tacky gold crown that was thrusted onto his head, turning to shoot him a dazzling grin that's worth its weight in gold and a shine in his eyes that's more breath taking than the entire ocean rolled into one. The prince holds out an arm, the Queen smirking and moving to intertwine their limbs together with his own as they walk out into the rapidly darkening Ohio skyline.

And it's here Blaine Anderson's realised that if someone found him – _them_ – unworthy of their time, then there's no point in bothering with them in the first place.

(And if this was a fairytale of a cowardly Prince overcoming his fears to save the Queen from certain death, then they would be riding off into the sunset on a pure snow white horse and the story would come to an end.)

(But he's aware that this is never the case with reality, and with _this_ reality, all he knows is that their story will _never_ end.)


	13. xii

**Just a note to say that this is an additional song/scene - I was listening to it, and I just went "This needs to be in it." and tada! Enjoy!**

* * *

><p><strong>xii.<strong>

"Just here – no, a bit further – yeah, okay, if you just leave me here, that'll be fine. Thanks! …Yes, he is here. See, he's just sitting under the tree. … Finn! No! Not right now! ….Okay, I'm just going to pretend you did _not_ say that. I'll get Blaine to drop me home. _Yes_, I – You know what, I'm not even going to bother responding to that statement. I'll see you when I get home. _**Bye**_, Finn… Blaine?"

"Hmm? Oh, hey – You've made it!"

"I know, baby, and I'm _so_ sorry I'm late. I was leaving the house when my car wouldn't start and then my dad had to try and convince Finn to leave me down but he wanted to wait until the game started and the only way I could get him to move his sorry ass was to threaten his precious games console, but I'm here now – _mmph!_"

…

"What was that for?"

"Well, one, you were rambling. Two, you look absolutely gorgeous, like always. Three, Finn hasn't driven away yet and I know how much the pure love that simply _oozes_ from us makes him feel rather... 'uncomfortable'."

"…You are a mean man, Blaine Anderson, a very, _very_ mean man."

"But you still love me! Also, that's a little payback for him even suggesting that we would – "

"_It's just uncomfortable because he's my brother, dude! I mean, I don't have __**anything**__ against gay guys, but can't you just keep what you guys do to a __**minimum**__, at least–_ "

"_FINN DANIEL HUDSON, IF YOU DON'T LEAVE THIS STREET __**RIGHT NOW**__ YOU WILL NO LONGER HAVE THE ABILITY TO CONTINUE ON THE HUDSON-HUMMEL LEGACY -"_

* * *

><p>"Hey, love?"<p>

"Yes, pumpkin?"

"…of all the endearing names to choose, you picked 'pumpkin'. _Really_, Blaine?"

"Hey, it's better than 'sugarplum princess', or 'sweetcheeks', or – "

"Okay, okay. I get the picture. Anyway, I was just wondering… where did you get the idea for a 'picnic under the stars', as you've dubbed this evening?"

"Well, it may have been slightly influenced by a conversation with the _lovely_ Mercedes…"

"Ugh, I _knew _she had something to do with this."

"Wait, is that not okay? Did I do something wrong?" … "Is it the food? Oh god, it's the food, isn't it. I knew this wasn't a good ide – _hmmph_?"

…

"You were rambling, dear. No, it's _wonderful_. I just… wish she didn't spill her guts so easily, that's all."

"Hey. It's okay. I'm sorry if I over stepped some kind of boundary between the two of you when I asked her for date ideas. She just wants you to be happy, that's all… Although, I must agree with your expectations – this dream date of yours _is_ pretty spectacular."

"Apart from Finn ruining the ambience at the beginning."

"Hmm… yes, apart from Finn. But I'll forgive him this time."

…

"What are you humming?"

"What?"

"I was asking what you were humming, that's all. It sounded… nice. Peaceful, even."

"Oh, yeah. Of course. In fact, I'll _raise _youyour answer, from telling you using words to actually _singing_ it to you. If you don't mind, that is."

"Well, aren't _you_ feeling generous tonight. Alright. Whenever you're ready."

…

"_Haven't you heard?__  
>I'm stuck on a face;<br>I'm stuck on a boy who fills me with joy.  
>I knew I was wrong to,<br>Jump straight on into the picture so pretty,  
>But he is so pretty to me.<em>

_And he doesn't know just how far I would go,_  
><em>Just to kiss him;<em>  
><em>He doesn't know how I pine."<em>

…

"I was just thinking, you know, that I love you so much, and how great tonight's been, and it just… popped into my head, I guess. "

…

"I love you, too. You know that, don't you?"

"Of course I do. It's hard to believe sometimes, but I'm guess we're just going to be stuck with each other until the end of our lives."

"Mhmm."

…

"…Kurt, did you fall asleep?"

…

…

_"__So I make whirlpools,  
>And watch him sparkle,<br>And we'll make love make magic...__"_


	14. xiii

**Two things: My internet is doing this really weird thing where it only allows me on MSN, Skype and the login part of Fanfiction. I have no idea what it's playing at, but that's why this is delayed. Also, if this looks familiar, I uploaded this as a seperate one-shot under the name 'I Think I Wanna Marry You' in celebration of New York passing ~the bill~.**

**OH. Just to let you know - this is the penultimate part. The final part will be uploaded tomorrow if my internet decides to fix itself. I'll stop rambling now so you can read, haha. Enjoy!**

* * *

><p><strong>xiii.<strong>

There's one thing that everyone has in common - something that's very simple (so simple, in fact, that most of the time we aren't aware of it) but at the same time it's something that impacts anything and everything we do.

We can't help it, of course. We see something as simple as the cover of a book or someone that looks vaguely familiar and words just come to you - we look at a duck waddling down the road and remember that one time a friend ran after one of the exact same shade, or we're listening to a song and automatically associating it to something that took place in the past.

The thing, of course, is _thoughts_. The words that swirl around in your mind almost all the time, strings of words that never really stop bugging you until something else comes up or you simply forget about it. Thoughts are the truth, whether you think you love the kid next door or hate that one person in school or think _oh my god what the hell are they wearing_, and they are capable of changing the world around us.

Everything starts off as a thought – that kid with the nice smile is rather cute; imagine if _that_ existed; why is everyone reacting like that? – and sometimes it can end as a thought, too. It's something everyone does.

But just because everyone thinks, doesn't mean that they necessarily think the same way – there's the ones who overthink and the ones who don't think as much; there's the ones with their heads in the clouds and those with their feet planted firmly in the ground; there's the ones who ponder on the same thought (running away with the one they love, smiling for the paparazzi, getting your family's approval) over and over and over again until it feels like reality and the ones that let it spark in their mind (that they have a shot at this, and this can _really_ happen) but extinguish it before it has the chance to burst into life.

And everyone tends to mix and match - dreaming of a better tomorrow but then backing down when the opportunity to get away from it all _finally_ arises; being critical with everything you do and everything you say (and heck, maybe everything you wear) but hoping that you catch someone's eye and that maybe, _just maybe_, there could be a future that allows you to feel good about yourself; always looking at the positive side of everything, and others looking at the negative…

Then there's a certain way to think, too. Some people pause halfway through sentences or stop functioning while they ponder; others may mumble to themselves and glare at anyone who dares interrupt them; some simple smile and continue on with their lives.

But there's one that is rather… rare to find. It's one that is constantly exaggerated in the entertainment business by someone throwing an arm behind their neck and allowing their fingers to gently scratch at their scalp or humming aloud while tapping a finger against their chin, head normally tilted to the side and eyes looking towards the skyline of wherever-they-are. In reality, however, it's the kind that causes your eyes to glaze over, or makes you worry your bottom lip between your lip and sigh. Sometimes your brow will furrow and your nose will wrinkle, lips will purse and your hands twist together so you can hold onto something (anything). Inside your mind, thoughts are whirring to life at an enthusiastic rate, blood and adrenaline pumping around your body and your heart thumpthumpthumping at a faster rate than normal. Incoherency is common because your thoughts are moving _so fast_ and you just can't keep up because you feel as though your eyes have been wrenched open and hey, maybe the one thing you were stuck on seems so much _clearer_ now, or you've just realised how amazing life can be once this thing happens. A smile or a frown blooms on your face and, depending on the realisation, you feel (un)stoppable. It doesn't matter if you're a pessimistic or an optimistic thinker – the reaction will always be of a mind blowing quality,

They're the thoughts that could possibly change your life.

Those moments happen a few times in everyone's lives, and it's during the summer of his junior year that Blaine finally has this thought.

* * *

><p>It begins off slow – Kurt goes and, thankfully, returns unharmed from New York after placing twelfth in Nationals; Blaine accidentally let's slip that he loves Kurt (and he hasn't been this happy to hear 'I love you, too' since… well, ever); they both work on "Pip, Pip, Hooray!" and Blaine's audition for Six Flags; they occasionally meet up with the other members of New Directions and his fellow Warbler's…<p>

Yeah, it's slow, but Blaine likes slow and he likes – no, _loves_ – the glacial pace everything is moving at at the moment.

So when he's sitting in his room watching the proceedings in New York on marriage equalities, the silence that reaches him as the realisation that it's actually been passed hasn't hit yet is _staggering_. The phone is pressed tightly against his ear, mouth agape at the screen and his mind trying to ignore the haggard breathing he can hear down the line as static applause rings out across the room.

It only takes five words (spoken in a tone of disbelief and shock and excitement and _oh my god_ he's pretty sure he can feel his other half _trembling_ as his voice cracks halfway) and a squeal to break Blaine out of his stupor:

"Blaine, we could get _**married**_."

And the word 'married' echoes in his ears, cancelling out the sounds of the TV and everything in the background. He feels himself literally buzzing, eyes wide and breathing shallow as his palm becomes slick with sweat at the realisation that hits him.

His pulse is racing and the hand on the phone is gripping tightly as he envisions his future – moving to New York with Kurt; getting a job that pays well and moving out of a shabby apart used in college into a two-story home; planning an engagement behind his lovers back and Kurt's face as he realises that Blaine planned all this when he gets down on one knee in front of his family and friends; seeing perfectly coiffed chestnut brown hair at the end of the aisle and staring into glasz eyes as they take their first dance as husband and husband; adopting kids, looking after grandchildren and nieces and nephews and children – heck, Blaine can even see them getting a dog and a cat – and growing old together…

He never really thought about it before, but now he can't see his future without it.

Blaine zones back into reality with the sounds of Kurt cheering in his ear and many people on his screen celebrating the news, the voice on the other end of the line babbling endlessly about whatever comes to his mind. A smile graces his face when a timid voice calls his name, and he can't help but chuckle a little bit when Kurt becomes convinced that he's scared him away.

"I love you, you know that?" he speaks softly, picking at a stray piece of string on the blanket he's sitting on.

Kurt sighs in relief. "Of course I do." There's another pause and a sharp intake of breath. "So, I didn't scare you away, did I?"

Rolling his eyes, the Warbler lowers his tone as he plays back the fantasy in his head. "No, you didn't." He smiles wider, raising his gaze as he reaches his favourite part, "If it helps you calm down, I was thinking about our two-point-five children and our pets."

The silence on the other line lasts longer than Blaine was expecting, and he's beginning to regret opening his damn mouth when he hears a muffled squeal, causing him to roll his eyes.

"So, you don't mind us discussing our future after college? Because so far we've only talked about going to New York after we've finished High School and I want to make this seem okay – "

Blaine chuckles again. "You're so cute when you're flustered. If I could kiss you right now, I would." He doesn't need to be there to know that Kurt is blushing heavily, and after a short confirmation from his boyfriend about reciprocating the movement (and he rolls his eyes at the other teen ignoring the beginning of the sentence) he continues. "No, I don't mind at all. It would be nice to see what you think."

"Always the gentleman," Kurt breathes out and Blaine allows his smile to widen even further, "Alright, so I was thinking that when we pass our exams…"

Blaine relocates himself from the center of the bed to the headboard, picking up a pillow as Kurt talks about proposals and squeezing it lightly out of anticipation. He's well aware that life isn't as easy as his thoughts make it appear to be, and as he hears Kurt rambling on the other side of the phone ("…we can have horses pull the carriage and doves circle around the area as the ceremony goes underway and I just… _I can't believe that this could happen to us_…") the grin that crosses his face makes him realise that even if they don't manage to get the kids or the nice house or the respectable pay check that he's hoping for, he's at a mutual agreement with his thoughts – he's going to try his hardest to become a loving husband to Kurt Elizabeth Hummel and that's all Blaine needs to make this work.

It's with those life-altering thoughts in mind that their summer kicks off with a _bang_.


	15. xiv: epilogue

**Well, guys, it's the end. I'll do my massive thanks at the end of this, but just a warning - this is incredibly cheesy and fluffy and much longer than any of the other parts, but you'll be glad to know it's a very, very happy ending for Blaine. More information on downloading the fanmix will be at the end. Thank you, and enjoy! *hearts***

* * *

><p><strong>xiv.<strong>

{_epilogue:  
>a year later<em>_._}

If you asked Blaine Anderson two years ago what he would be spending his summer doing, he would have replied with "Helping my father with his job and reading… but it's alright – it should be fun! I don't really know any of the guys at Dalton that well anyway."

If you asked Blaine Anderson a year ago what he would be spending his summer doing, he would have replied with "I don't know… I think I'll be spending it with Kurt, or some of the guys from Dalton. Yeah."

But now if you asked Blaine Anderson how he was going to be spending his summer, he would reply with a simple "I'm spending it with _all_ of my friends, and I wouldn't have it any other way."

And that's exactly what he did.

After moving to McKinley towards the beginning of the school year, Blaine managed to fit in with most of his fellow New Directions members, and the two groups seemed to learn something from his transfer – the McKinley clan learned that you should never judge books by their cover (even if said cover is battered and dog-eared and creased from use) and Blaine learned to _relax_ a little. Slowly they both began to work together and impart their knowledge to each other, a few members helping Blaine out when it came to seeing who was with who and the ex-Warbler teaching them how to work together instead of constantly clashing with each other. Blaine _finally_ found a place where he could fit in without having to change himself too much.

(Although, that revelation only hit him when a jock gave him his first slushie facial and he walked into Glee club with the icy substance dripping from his hair in thick chunks and the parts that had already liquidised being caught at the end of his tongue or sticking to his skin - the girls were gasping and cooing over him, the guys determined to teach the 'other dude' a lesson and Kurt sitting by his side with a facecloth, trying to get some of the drink away from his face while muttering violently under his breath in French.)

(He's never felt more _wanted_.)

And then they're flying through Regionals and Sectionals and by the time they've reached Nationals none of them could care that they got third place instead of first because they've all had fun along the journey (pun _partially_ intended) despite the inevitable drama that was thrown their way

(But hey, they totally kicked Vocal Adrenaline's ass, and that's _all_ that matters to them.)

They sit at their final class of the year, talking about all the things they've learnt. There's a few of the same things – to not judge people so quickly; to not be afraid to be proud of who you are; to be more accepting of those around you; to embrace the little things – but then Kurt stands up and tells everyone that he's learnt to love, and Blaine's standing up immediately afterwards to say that he's learnt that no matter how many times people will pull you down or treat you like dirt, if you've got someone there (he squeezes Kurt's hand and casts a tear filled glance to everyone sitting in the circle) then you can make it through anything.

They talk, they laugh, they have a random day of chilling out and laughing and being in the same room together one last time before they all depart for college and it's during the group hug before the school bell chimes that Puck suggests they should all get together one last time before they're all separating to different states.

When no one can think of anything, Blaine quietly suggests that they should have a bonfire.

He soon loses count of how many people have slapped his back for the 'incredible' idea.

And soon enough it's the third week in June and they've managed to find the perfect place for their final get-together – an abandoned camp site where weeds grow through cracks in the decaying wooden huts and lush evergreen trees make it seem as though they're the only people in the world and there's the most _amazing_ bonfire pit that's pretty much perfect.

They all arrive then in groups of two or three as the sky turns a pastel orange – Kurt and Blaine and Finn bring snacks; Santana and Brittany and Puck arrive with the beverages; Rachel and Mercedes are in charge of bringing the comfort, which mostly consists of duvets and pillows in case anyone gets cold or they end up (somehow) sleeping there and if anyone has any musical instruments then they bring them along, too.

* * *

><p>It's all easy from there – they all begin to share memories and laugh at each other's failures and applaud everyone's success; there are sing-offs and camp fire songs sung and casual conversation about their favourite performance that they've done during their time in New Directions. Everyone's having fun, and Blaine just feels so <em>happy<em> with everything at the moment.

Everyone's off in their own little huddles when the sky becomes a rich magenta, and Blaine tightens his arms around Kurt at the thought that no one else has even bothered to come anywhere near them (he's taking this as a good thing, especially since Santana looks over every now and then and give them an ostentatious wink while Rachel and Mercedes get this completely adorable look on their faces when they're not otherwise distracted by their boyfriends.) A thought crosses his mind at that moment, and he finds it rather unnerving, to say the least.

"Hey, Kurt…" he begins, leaning back a bit to assess his boyfriend's reaction, chuckling lightly under his breath when he replies with a simple "mhmm."

"When was the last time I sung something really, _really_ cheesy to you?" he muses lightly, making sure to keep his eyes on Kurt as he sits up and stretches (_don't look at his shirt riding up, Blaine, you won't last the night_) before answering.

"I think it was… Here (In Your Arms) by Hellogoodbye, although I have no idea if that would actually count, but that was… two months ago?" He wrinkled his nose in thought, raising his arms and yawning before turning to look at his boyfriend. "Yeah, it was for my birthday. Two months ago."

Which is why Blaine finds it _completely_ understandable to immediately sit up and grab Sami, making sure she's tuned correctly and catching the attention of everyone in the circle as he whistles slowly to himself. After making sure that the chords are all correct, he looks up to see everyone's curiosity turned his way.

There's a pause as he purses his lips. "Does anyone happen to have a harmonica?" he asks sheepishly.

Everyone looks at each other, shrugging and shaking their heads, and Blaine sighs while turning towards Kurt.

"So, it's been two months. I don't think that's right at all. I should be singing to you at least once every day, the way I see it." Many of the girls 'awww'ed simultaneously, Santana pretending to barf and Brittany staring just above his head, while the guys all began to remember why they resented Blaine sometimes – he was always making them_ look bad_.

"So, here we go – this is for you, because I love you. Like, a lot. So much it terrifies me sometimes. And I have no idea what'll happen to the two of us after this night ends, but I hope that we'll stay together until… well, until the end, really."

He takes a deep breath at that, looking down at the ground with a nervous smile and returning his gaze to his lover with a smooth grin before he opened his mouth began to sing.

"_If I was a flower growing wild and free__,  
>All I'd want is you to be my sweet honey bee.<br>And if I was a tree growing tall and green,  
>All I'd want is you to shade me and be my leaves<em>."

As he took a few seconds before beginning to strum lightly on his guitar, he could hear girls in the background recognise the tune, a few guys saying that it sounded familiar and Kurt taking a shallow intake of breath, a familiar grin spreading across his face that gives Blaine the go ahead that this is perfectly alright.

Blaine whistles lightly along with the guitar, moving to stand up and walk around the bonfire and take a good look at all the people who have practically shaped who he is today. He repeats the first verse, taking a second to shoot appreciative smiles at everyone before zoning in again on Kurt.

"_All I want is you, will you be my bride?  
>Take me by the hand and stand by my side.<br>All I want is you, will you stay with me?  
>Hold me in your arms and sway me like the sea."<em>

He sits beside Brittany, lightly nudging her shoulder before getting up…

"_If you were a river in the mountains tall,  
>The rumble of your water would be my call.<em>"

…And moving to her other side so he's in the middle of a Quinn-Tina-Mercedes-Rachel sandwich of some sort.

"_If you were the winter, I know I'd be the snow,  
>Just as long as you were with me, when the cold winds blow.<em>"

Standing up, he repeats the verse from before and throws an over-exaggerated wink towards the guys, who begin roaring with laughter as Puck sends a kiss his way and Blaine stops playing to 'pocket' it.

There's one laugh, however, that he instantly hones in on – a light musical one that just sounds so _perfect_ that he can't help but chuckle in return. Blaine slowly begins to walk back towards Kurt, whistling again and after hearing him hum along to the tune he sits beside him and immediately picks up from where he left off.

"_If you were a wink,"_ he tries not to laugh too much as Kurt sends his own exaggerated wink his way, _"I'd be a nod;"_ and as he nods in return he turns back towards the bonfire and begins to finish the rest of the song while watching everyone clap or harmonise along with him.

"_If you were a seed, well I'd be a pod.  
>If you were the floor, I'd wanna be the rug,<br>And if you were a kiss, I know I'd be a hug."_

(He manages to sneak in a kiss to Kurt's cheek at that line, and he's pretty sure he's pulled into a side hug in return, and the grin on his face is just getting wider and wider as his heart grows bigger and bigger with every passing moment.)

"_If you were the wood, I'd be the fire._  
><em>If you were the love, I'd be the desire.<em>  
><em>If you were a castle, I'd be your moat,<em>  
><em>And if you were an ocean, I'd learn to float.<em>"

He pauses the guitar there, putting it on the ground beside him and clapping out a simple rhythm to go with it and allowing everyone to join in at the end.

"_All I want is you, will you be my bride?_  
><em>Take me by the hand and stand by my side.<em>  
><em>All I want is you, will you stay with me?<em>  
><em>Hold me in your arms and sway me like the sea.<em>"

Everyone applauses as Blaine stands up and takes a small bow, sitting back down and becoming immediately engulfed in a bear hug.

"You're an absolute _cheese ball_, you know that?" He begins, causing Blaine's chest to begin rumbling with laughter. "You've got us all around a bonfire singing cheesy songs and it's just… it's so you." He pauses his rant. "I love it. I love _you_." Kurt whispers into his ear, the vast temperature difference between the hot air billowing from his mouth and the crisp wind gently caressing the duo causing Blaine to shiver slightly.

"I love you, too." He replies simply, pulling his boyfriend in for a chaste kiss and throwing an arm around his shoulder as they break apart.

There's a small silence following the song, everyone just thinking about college and the future and friends and how absolutely perfect everything is in this moment…

…And then one person just _has_ to ruin it.

"Did anyone else notice that it started out with Blaine singing to Kurt, but in the end it was all of us singing to each other?"

Everyone looked to Sam, then to Blaine, then to Kurt, and then at each other before bursting out into a laughter for the simple fact that Sam's ruining moments again, and it looks as though everything's back to normal.

(Well, as normal as it can be.)

* * *

><p>The sunlight has disappeared behind the skyline as dusk takes over their surroundings, dimming the excitement from before into contentment. Brittany seems endlessly amused by the fireflies that appear in the woods nearby, dragging Santana with her to see if she can catch any to keep Lord Tubbington company while she's gone and the embers of their bonfire is fighting a losing battle against the frigid evening breeze, and everyone's just <em>thinking<em>.

They're no longer going to be at each other's throats on a daily basis, and although some may expect them to be feeling relieved, they're feeling _listless_. The lack of slushies is what brought him closer to them, Blaine thinks, and it's strange how something so trivial and so peculiar can change so many things. He's hoping that they can all stay in touch, even if it is through the odd facebook wall post or 'happy birthday' messages, because they all have something here that's worth keeping alive. It might be Blaine's new fear, actually. Growing apart from these guys…

"You brought the fireflies, didn't you?"

Blaine looks down at the boys head on his lap, gently running his fingers through chestnut locks and stopping the pattern every once in a while to softly massage his scalp.

"Hmm?" Blaine questions, stopping to scratch his fingers lightly against Kurt's scalp.

He smiles when the other male squirms lightly under his touch. "Well, you managed to get the bonfire – _mmm_ – and then you got us all to sing songs – _uhhh_ – and now there are firefli – _ieeee_ – s around us. You're like, magic or something. Or you just pla – _aahhhh_ – ned this."

The ex-Warbler bites his lip to stop himself from laughing at his drowsy boyfriend. "If I planned this, wouldn't I have a jar to catch the fireflies in?"

He continues running a hand through Kurt's hair, careful not to snag his fingers in the locks and pull at them when he begins to shake his head and Blaine can literally imagine him pouting as he whispers "No, 'cause you're magic."

The laughter that follows the statement is somewhat silent in an attempt to not waken anyone who's asleep, but he can't help but bend down to press a kiss to Kurt's temple, and he sits back and just smiles at this incredible man half asleep on his lap.

"I have no idea how you guys do it."

Blaine feels himself jump about ten feet in the air when he hears the voice, but he relaxes when he sees wheat blonde hair in a plait that falls past her right shoulder and a snow white alice band that sits atop her head.

"What do you mean?" he questions lightly, head tilted to the side as he watches her hands twist and turn around each other and her mouth open and close a few times.

"Well, I just… I look at the two of you, two guys who do have some things in common, but not an awful lot, and you just make it look like being together is a walk in the park." Quinn pauses, pulling her bottom lip between a set of teeth and lightly gnawing on it and moving her gaze so blue meets hazel. "I wish it was that easy for everyone, you know?"

He gives her a small smile in return, looking down as Kurt unconsciously fixes his position on Blaine's lap so one hand is wrapped around his torso and the other placed strategically under his head just as Quinn says "But he _deserves_ to be happy... and I'm glad that you're the one to do it." and the smile turns into a grin.

It wasn't like he was unaware that they were both different – they had their spats and their disagreements about trivial things (like how long you should keep conditioner in your hair and what _is_ the correct price range for a simple cardigan) but they always make up in the end. It's how they've _always_ worked.

But it's as he's closing his eyes and following the example of everyone catching just a little bit of sleep that he realises that it _does_ work because they're different; Because he's Blaine Anderson, who likes the smell of old books and bittersweet coffee tainting his taste buds and the way it feels as calloused fingertips carve sweet nothings into his lover's skin, And he's Kurt Hummel, who enjoys the aroma rain leaves after its rapid departure and how refreshing citrus tastes after a long day and the feeling of his lover's five o'clock shadow as it scratches his face_ just right_, and after experiencing a whirlwind of emotions throughout high school, he thinks he deserves something _different _for college…

Because _they_ _**couldn't **_be more different.

(But, then again, they couldn't be more perfect for each other, either.)

**-FIN-**

* * *

><p><strong>I'm just sitting here in shock, because I just checked for the first time since I began this thing how many hits it's gotten and it's almost at 3,000. Thanks to those who have reviewed, favourited, alerted and checked this little thing out. I really hope you're happy with how this entire thing ended! If you have any ConCrit or opinions or if you just want to say that you've enjoyedhated this, then please leave a review! I would love to know what you guys think!**

**Fanmix wise, I've left a link for it which leads to my livejournal page - basically, it's 16 songs (including two bonus tracks, which have been mentioned in this part, "Here (In Your Arms)" by Hellogoodbye and the song Blaine sings to Kurt, "All I Want Is You" by Barry Louis Polisar) and it's all availble to download with an album cover! Yes! Isn't that exciting!**

**...okay, it's really not, but anyway. Thank you guys for being awesome! Hopefully I'll be doing more things like this in the future! :D**


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